


Scars

by FreeTraderBeowulf



Category: The Magicians (TV), The Magicians - Lev Grossman
Genre: Angst, Bisexual, Brakebills (The Magicians), Can Quentin ever love again? hUH I wonder, Eliots understanding and fluff!, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fluff, Gay, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, Physical Abuse, Qualice but its friendship, Quentin was in an abusive relationship, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Slow Burn, queliot, they're first years again, trust me its actually cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2020-01-23 20:08:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 22
Words: 19,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18556930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreeTraderBeowulf/pseuds/FreeTraderBeowulf
Summary: Quentin Coldwater doesn't trust people. Never really has, but thats forced to change when Eliot Waugh finds out about Quentins self-harm. Maybe, with someone like him, Quentin can learn to trust, or even love.





	1. Scratch

Quentin’s hand was itchy during minor mendings. He started to scratch it under the table slow and deep until it stung. He didn't stop.

He looked down eventually and the patch on his hand was raw and shiny, pinpricks of blood floating up from deeper in his skin. His hand was still itchy, he didn't pay much attention to the lecture, he didn't feel he had the capacity too. After they were dismissed Quentin pulled down his sleeve and laughed at something Alice said before going about his day. Whenever he touched the spot, it was kind of like a pick me up, a sick alternative to espresso or adderall.

That night at the cottage Quentin stayed up later than everyone else in the common room, pulled up his sleeve even further, and started clawing at the inside of his wrist with dull nails. When a bleary eyed Eliot stumbled onto the couch Quentin just had broken the skin.

“What’re you doing Q?”

“Reading for..Herbology.” Quentin said glancing at the cover.

Eliot looked worryingly at Quentin, electing to sit down beside him.

“Q I know you said you’ve done some dark shit but uh, fuck Q what is that?”

“The book..?”

“Quentin you know I’m your friend right, uh shit.”

“El your tired just go to bed.”

“No Q I’m not because you need to show me your hand.”

“What? Why?” Quentin responded dumbly.

“Jesus Quentin you’ve been hurting yourself haven’t you?”

Quentin froze, this was a habit he never cared to get caught doing, mostly because reactions were so unpredictable. Even then it was just a habit, it helped him cope, isn’t that what everyone else just does anyways?

“It’s just a scratch Eliot.”

“No, its not. And I love you Q but I don’t think this is the first time you’ve done it.”

“Look I’ll stop okay it's just a bad habit I picked up, it's not like I’m cutting or anything.” Quentin said sticking his nose back into his book.

“No Quentin, just because you couldn't get your hand on a knife doesn't mean it's any less real. Or any less stupid.”

Quentin groaned.

“You don't get to be offended or think I’m overreacting or whatever you were clawing your fucking skin off because why? Why Quentin?”

He thought about it for several moments before deciding it wouldn't make much sense no matter what he said anyways, so might as well say whatever comes to mind.

“You ever heard of deferred pain?”

“No.”

“Well basically your body can only process so much at a time so it tunes stuff out. Like, extreme, but you don't feel your scraped knee when your other leg has just been sawed off entirely.”

“Where is this going Q?”

“Even if its little. Just a scratch, just a bruise. Biting my fucking lip it takes the pain out of my chest. Just a little bit, nudging it forward. And God Eliot someone times for a goddamn minute I need it all out of my head and this helps okay?”

Eliot was shaking his head.

“We can help you do that Q. This isn't something you handle by yourself.”

Quentin had had enough. Because he thought of it as a quirk, an inconvenience. One Eliot was going to out and pity him over.

“Eliot, I don’t need help with this. And even if I did, I wouldnt trust you.”

He regretted it after he said it, he saw Eliot's facade, sauve and sticky, crumble like stale bread. His hair fell over his face and he didn’t push it would of his eyes, just left it there.

“I just, thought it was getting better.” Eliot whispered.

“Yeah, it was.”

“Then why? Why not just take your pills or fucking talk about it at least.”

“I have fucking magic in my life El, I shouldn’t need them. I've been given this gift, what I’ve always wanted. I can control things, control minds for christs sake. I have everything I thought I wanted, and it still isn't enough for my head to shut the fuck up.”

“Control doesn’t just happen Q. When I told you about Logan, the kid I..”

“You don’t have to say it El.”

“That was control too Q. That was absolute control over everything. Over fucking fate itself.”

“But it wasn’t your fault Eliot.”

“So it’s not yours either.”

Quentin shuffled in his spot, arms crossing tightly over his stomach.

“Q, I uh, get if I’m not the one to help you. I can’t even help myself but. If there's anything you deserve Quentin Coldwater, its realize how beautiful you are.”

Quentin felt like he was about to jump out of his skin, he nuzzled up to Eliot without knowing why.

“Q will you let me clean you up?”

“Okay.”

Eliot got up and returned a moment later with supplies. It helped he did it quickly, gave Quentin less time to think about bailing.

Eliot sat close to him, and put a warm, wet rag over his hand, stroking gently. It was more care than Quentin had ever taken, he just tended to cover the scrapes with vaseline if anything. 

“Eliot you should just sleep, I can handle it.”

“I don’t trust you too Quentin.”

It stung, even though he deserved it. He wanted them to trust each other implicitly, almost artificially. But suffice to say they had a few character defects.

“It’s gonna scar you know, it won't be too bad but, you got pretty deep.”

“I don’t really care.”

“You should.”

He didn’t add anything to it, just let it sit on the floor.

Quentin could tell his hand was shaking a bit, he wasn't sure if from pain or revelation. That his bad habit, his secret escape had been taken away, because he knew how deeply Eliot cared. Quentin hated that he was doing calculations in the back of his mind to see which one he cared more about losing.

“Eliot, is it okay if we don’t talk about it. Maybe tomorrow just right now I can't..”

“Save your overthinking for something worthwhile Q. You need too, but tonight I’m fine with getting you some neosporin.”

Eliot cleaned him up, wrapping comical amounts of bandages over this hands, fastened magically into place.

“I don’t think that's necessary El.”

“It’s how I know your not still picking at them, they’ll scar less if you don’t. I know you’ll look stupid today but it's better than being reminded of your damage for a lifetime. Okay?”

“Okay.”


	2. Obvious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quentin hates his unwanted attention, the urges don't go away. People are starting to take notice

The few days later in class Alice noticed Eliot’s bandages. Quentin said he burned his hand during a spell. Nothing that out of the ordinary, but even she knew that someone as impatient and restless as Quentin Coldwater wouldn’t bother to clean up his mess. He was just the right amount of self self absorbed to not be a total douchebag, but enough to remain oblivious to consequence. And maybe be a little bit of an actual douchebag sometimes, but nobody's perfect.

“Yeah Q, hope you.. feel better.”

She said rushing out of class, one of her ankles buckling inward as she tripped over her heels. Quentin didn’t bother to chase after.

Quentin retired to the library in a corner that smells vaguely of incense and flavored lube and sat criss cross applesauce on the floor. He produced The Secret Sea from his book bag and turned to chapter 4. It was about Martin, he couldn't help but turn to those pages. Something about him, layers you had to hungrily devor, because you could tell whoever wrote him was leaving something out. His thoughts and character hastily painted over. Gave Quentin something to chew on, try figure out who Martin really was to him.

Every time he turned a page he saw his hand, and cursed Eliot for making it so damn obvious. It wasn't that bad, hardly anyone would have noticed a scab. Quentin felt like Eliot had wrapped him in christmas lights and plastered a las vegas style sign that read damaged on his forehead. Yeah to a degree it was necessary, after all he had been trying to get them off for hours before he gave up on cracking the wards, but it all seemed like too much attention to swallow in one sitting.

It made Quentin feel guilty, made his throat itch and eyes water. Made him feel like an idiot for even trying. His wrist burned, his head screaming at him to do something. A pull as irresistible as gravity, telling him he needed to get them off. He needed to fix this mountain of shit he's created and just fucking give up. 

Quentin found a staple on the ground.

His hand was a lost cause, so he stuck it in his calf. It burned, and Quentin could finally close his eyes, jagged breaths tapering off.

With every breath he took he dragged it across his skin, creating little red lines that would fade a few minutes later. It wasn’t enough, but it was just enough to get by.

“Fuck” He muttered under his breath. Relief warming his chest.

Quentin Coldwater them went about his day, took a class on Astrology and near set fire to an easy mac because he forgot to add water. He went to bed feeling guilty, and imagined his life slipping away from him as he fell asleep.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ik low key inconsequential but like kinda need to estaablish one heart to heart aint enough bish, queliot introduced next chapter. This i also pre beast in case y'all are confuzled


	3. Drunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quentin has to much to drink and realizes he's caught some feelings. Quentin Coldwater is terrible guarding his heart. God help our baby boy

Quentin had a little bit too much to drink. 

Margo had gotten him blitzed on this glowing green drink that tastes like Mexican Coke and he'd taken some beer nuts from a guy that tasted nothing like beer nuts. Quentin was now starting to question ow much of what was going on around him was real magic or if his eyes were deceiving him.

He stumbled onto the back porch that was surprisingly empty, and cuddled under a blanket, relishing the cold air as it stabbed at his lungs. Quentin felt his lips grow dryer and drier and started picking off bits of loose skin. They stung, but they didn't bleed. It was enough.

“Hey Coldwater.”

Quentin got up startled. Eliot loomed before him. He was disheled and  sweaty, his tie abandoned somewhere on the dance floor. He handed Quentin a cup of tea.

“You seemed like the type to like it.”

Quentin took it gladly, felt the warmth fill up his stomach and bit back his sheepish half smile.

“Glad to know I got something out of you by the end of the night.” Eliot said.

“Why aren't you at the party?”

“Well Q, while I am a dignified and elegant host, I like you more than that lot.”

Quentin could tell Eliot had been drinking too, just not as much as Q had. His accent was just starting to come at, slurred at the end of his sentences.

“Im flattered.” Quentin said, it came out colder than he meant it too. “But really shouldn’t you be with your boyfriend or something?”

“Who?” Eliot laughed.

“That guy who always sleeps in your bed?”

“Dylan? Please, I’m just like a lizard, I need something warm underneath me or I can’t digest my food.”

It was blunt, it was Eliot.

“You can’t actually be..”

“Never pegged you as one for gossip Coldwater.” Eliot teased.

“I’m not I just..”

“Never thought about it?”

Quentin was in fact very, very drunk.

“I’ve thought about it.”

Quentin flushed bright red, “Shit I should have said that I-”, Quentin buried his face in his hands.

“Fuck El that was really bad wasn’t it?”

“Perhaps.” He stammered out, trying not to laugh.

There was a lot Quentin hadn’t told Eliot, there was just as much Eliot hadn’t told him. Quentin had been used to obsession, he had to know every detail before he caught feelings. Sure Eliot knew some things about him, things even Julia didn’t, perhaps that's why he was endeared to him. But Quentin was bored of looking for all the reasons he was crushing on him, he just wanted to let himself do something stupid.

“Hey..” Quentin leaned in and kissed him. He was warm and soft, he couldn’t help but take that fucking vest in his fists. When they finally parted he looked into Elliot's eyes, and realized he smelled like basil, which before he could never really put his finger on.

Eliot smiled, and they kissed before Eliot carried him up to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi fluff here to distract you cause its about to get darker dear god help me why cant i write happy fics??? Maybe the writers can give me inspiration by GIVING Q AND ELIOT A FUCKING CHANCE AT JOY. Also hopefully y'all know mexican coke is soda not actaul cocaine lmaoo


	4. Dirty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quentin wakes up after kissing Eliot, reality hits him hard as *spoliers* his death hit us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi me post finale, fuck you sera gamble thanks for coming to my ted talk, watch me write the story your queerbaiting, disrespectful, and ignorant ass was supposed to tell. Cause telling depressed queer people their stories will end with them killing themselves and everyone will only miss them when there gone was real fucking admirable. Heros vs. Morons? One terrible fucking decision.

Quentin woke up the next morning with his clothes on. Well his and Elliots. Guess he had found that tie at some point because it was now around Quentin's neck.

With bated breath he looked beside him and saw he was alone. Not, he left for the bathroom or is making me breakfast right now alone, just alone. He thanked Eliot for that.

The memories came black in a blur, Quentin stumbling over himself before falling into bed, his lips puffy and hands warm against Eliot’s chest. Immediately he felt dirty.

Barley before he could get the sand out from under his eyes he grabbed his dorm key, dragged it an a crooked line across his tender wrist as he bit his lip. A thick raised line was left in is place, a few spots where the skin had just started to fold in on itself.

“Fuck.” He cursed under his breath.

Quentin hadn’t had sex, but he’d kissed a boy. Like actually kissed a boy. The whole act felt so damning and final. Because this time he fucking chose to.

Quentin put on to many layers and walked past Eliot’s door far to fast to get to his one line of communication, which, by the way, was a fucking payphone.

He chewed on the inside of his mouth, his tongue felt numb and it was like there was something stuck in his throat he couldn't spit out. He coughed experimentally, but it was still stuck there, bobbing up and down as he breathed.

“Jules?”

“Oh my God Q, it's been like 2 months..”

He could tell she was excited to hear from him, but it lurked of something else, some shadow of an agenda.

“Yeah I just, I can’t..”

“Fuck Q, what’s wrong?”

Quentin was breathing heavily into the phone now.

“Julia I need to tell you something.”

“Anything Q.”

Quentin hung up the phone. As he ran back to the cottage he attempted to take a shower, try scrub some of it off him, but he couldn't take his clothes of. Something stupid like that scared him so damn much. So Quentin stole a knife from the cupboard, and stashed it under his mattress before breakfast.


	5. Liquid Fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quentin sees Eliot, they start to talk about what comes next, then things come next

When Eliot woke up he grabbed Quentin from behind, it was playful, and he whispered in Quentins ear.

“Hey Beautiful.”

“Jesus Eliot you..scared me.”

“So how’s the hangover?”

“Bad.”

“I bet, you took what like 4 of Margos, what does she call them?”

Begrudgingly Quentin admitted, “Liquid Fun.”

“God I need to help her with that one. But loosened you up.” He laughed. Quentin didn't. Suddenly his bright smile soured into concern, “Oh shit, are you, okay with that?”

“Uh, kind of. I just, haven’t kissed anyone in awhile. And uh, thanks for not..”

“Don’t mention it, you weren’t in any state to consent anyhow. Anyways you don't have to be nice about it. I kinda suspected it was a one time thing for you, ever since we’ve gotten closer with..everything.”

Quentin cut him off, he wasn't sure why, “No, it's not that, you just don’t know the whole, story I guess. And sorry if I freaked out or whatever but uh, intimacy is kinda hard and-”

“You don’t have to explain it, I understand if you wanna pretend it never happened.”

Eliot said it nonchalantly, but Quentin could tell he was hurt, and that hurt. It stung deep in his chest and he let himself feel it. It wasn’t the hurt he was used it, it was sweet and salty, and he noticed when Elliot was nervous he should with his legs crossed, as if his gangling limbs were shying away in some attempt to collapse in on themselves.

“I don’t want to pretend it didn’t.”

“Really?” Eliot stuttered.

“Yeah, can we, go somewhere, not here maybe?”

And Eliot and Quentin walked up the stairs, Eliot closed the door.


	6. Sabotage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliot gossips with Margo about his crush, who is exceedingly unprediatble. Margo has little faith, Eliot misplaces his.

“So did you..”

“No Bambi, and one to snoop.”

“Please El, you've been crushing on him since he got here, I can't take another 2 months of that without a lot more wine.” She laughed as she poured the pair another glass.

“I don't want to rush him or anything cause he got kinda, weird.”

“Like Eliot’s in denial he's actual straight weird?”

“No, he wanted to. You could really tell he could.”

“So why not?”

“Well we were kissing, kinda shaky at first but he was into it. Like really into it, it was kinda adorable.”

“Never would have pegged Coldwater as the type.”

“But then he freaked the fuck out when I tried taking his shirt off. Not like kicking and screaming but he went back to his scared awkward self and practically pushed me off of him.”

“Eliot, you gotta let that one go, just go back to fucking Dylan.”

“Come on Bambi..You can’t help but admit hes, different. I think there's more to it.”

“Sure, I'll take your word for it,” her face slippery, dripping with her sarcasm. “I’ll make sure the Eliot Heartbreak Kit is fully stocked in the meantime.”

***

Eliot finally tracked him down. While he was one busting at the seams with secrets, Quentin Coldwater was quite predictable. He found him up against a tree, re-reading the Secret Sea. Eliot cursed quietly that he’d grown so attached he’d actually memorized the names of the book titles at this point.  He went and sat in front of him, his frustrating stature folding on on itself like a 3rd graders shitty origami project.

“Hey Q.”

“Eliot!” He looked up surprised, genuine.

“The Secret Sea again?”

“Yeah, I probably should be studying.” He said quickly folding it up to retrieve something else from his bag.

“No.” Eliot said, placing his hands on Quentins. “You love them, whatever gets you through the day you know?”

“I guess.”

“Speaking of that, when you didn’t want me to see you without your shirt. Have you been?.. Fuck, have you been hurting yourself again?”

“Why?”

The fact he didn’t answer made Eliot’s hands start to quiver.

“Cause I care about you, and there's not a lot of people I care about.”

“That’s a bad idea Eliot.”

“Can you not be so fucking stubborn.” He chuckled, but he was dead serious. Quentin just shrugged his shoulders, he was too.

“Eliot I’m..damaged. Maybe it’s just easier to say I changed my mind. Maybe we just stop, whatever you wanted to be.”

Eliot agreed politely. He then stumbled to the cottage and into Margo’s bed, let himself get angry while she fed him Sees candy. The caramel kind. Angry because as he would admit through clenched teeth he was starting to fall for Quentin, and angry that for once he wasn’t the one who ruined it. Sick as it was to say, sabotage was the only absolute power he had ever relied on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi its Eliot now, Quentin is being a stubborn bastard. Trust me it picks up after this. Also I consider myself cruel for saying Q was bursting at the "seams" with secrets.


	7. Taking Chances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quentin realizes how much he regrets turning Eliot down, visits Julia to attempt to talk about it

Quentin got the knife he’d stolen from the kitchen from under his mattress.

It wasn't very sharp, and it was dirty. Say what you will about the physical kids, gifted would most likely be the word you use, sloppy a close second.

He held it up and expected it to gleam in the moonlight, or something equally poetic. It was still just a knife, and he still ached for it. So once again, knife stashed under his layers, he ran to that fucking payphone.

“Julia?”

“Q, oh my God. Don’t leave I’m just, glad to hear your voice.”

“Yeah I uh, kinda, need it right now?”

“You have no idea Q. Look I know your upstate but are you busy tonight? It’s only like 7 you could still get to the city. I think maybe we should talk like, actually?”

Quentin had nothing to lose accept a goodbye.

“I’ll be there in maybe an hour.”

“How would you get here that fast-”

Quentin hung up.

***

The portal didn’t take long to cast. It was a bitch to cast, but beat taking the train and Quentin had also realized with no tuition and no job, he didn’t really have the money for a ticket either. Portal worked anyhow, and he was standing under the dreary sky in front of Julia’s apartment, anxious to get inside in case that sky decided to fall.

She buzzed him in, he went up the stairs, and let out a heavy sigh into Julia’s arms. She was warm, she was familiar. Quentin then realized he wasn’t sure if this was a mistake or not.

Julia’s apartment was overrun, and he could see her hair was dyed black, bags heavy under her eyes with smudges of long since overworn makeup.

“Jules, what happened?”

“Shit, just leave it at that okay. I’m just glad you're here. Come on sit down.”

She threw clothes and soda can off her couch that looked to be riddled with stains anyway, to leave just enough room for them to sit.

“So Q, grad school?”

“Yeah it’s different. Not like college, but college just kinda felt like high school so, maybe its my first real, change I guess. Are you applying?”

“No, I needed some time away from it.”

“And your, okay? Like, actually okay?”

“No Q I’m fine, right now at least. I just decided I wanted to..to be? Well, I guess I wasn’t sure. So I have money saved, I’m just trying to figure it out.”

“Fair enough.”

“So on the phone..Q what’s up? I know your Dad usually handles it but do I need to call your doctor? Or like, anyone?”

“I just need you okay. I just, I never really got over some shit that happened in college and I have something really good going on my my stupid brain is fucking it all up.”

“Well what’s the thing?”

“Uh, someone. Someone who really cares about me. And we kissed and we almost..I just fucked it up okay?” Quentin croaked.

“Whats her name?” She said rubbing his back.

Quentin took a shaking breath, because he had never told anyone before. The words seemed sentiment against his tongue, unruly and brawling. Refusing to stand in line so he could just, tell her.

“It’s not a girl is it..”

“Yeah.” He stammered out quickly. Having her say it first, he wasn't sure if he felt relieved or cheated.

“I mean, I kinda guessed. You weren’t exactly that subtle back in the day.”

Quentin let out a pained laugh, “Really?”

“No!” she chuckled, “And you really think I would have stopped loving you because of it?”

That last part stung, because it was true.

“His names Eliot.”

“Oh, sounds regal.” She jokes, but it looked like her face wasn’t used to smiling, the muscles sore and atrophied.

“Yeah he’s kinda like that. Very upstanding type. Also kind of dirty.”

It felt strange having her know the full story for once. Or well, some more of a story.

“And he found me, doing something bad.”

Julia looked him up and down.

“Quentin roll up your sleeves.”

“Jules..”

“Fuck. Fuck! Q I’m calling your Dad.”

“Jules don’t!”

“Quentin, I didn’t even know about your depression until what, 2 years ago? Your good at hiding shit when your scared Q. Even you liking guys. I didn’t put 2 and 2 together until we were like 18! I’m not taking any fucking chances!”

“I know what’s wrong, I can handle it!”

“Just let me help!” Julia had started to cry.

“You’ve helped enough.”

So Quentin went home without another word. And despite what would be everyones best advice, he took a fucking chance.


	8. Taken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quentin takes his chance, Eliot learns what's been taken from Q

Quentin kissed Eliot. He didn’t give an explanation. Eliot was happy to oblige.

The two were in the cottage at 3 am. Eliot was still awake, deeply engrossed in study or disappointing internet porn. He looked frustrated enough before Quentin came he guessed it could be either. 

Quentin's hair was wet with rain, Eliot ran his hands through it. He’d taken the train back from Julia's, turns out when your a Magician sneaking onto a subway platform was pretty small potatoes. Especially when confronted with the effort of casting another portal home.

Quentin had felt the knife pressing against his side the whole way there. To his credit he hadn’t looked at it, which surprised him after he had broken Julia’s heart. But she was what he needed after all, a reminder he was the one in the way of everything. He just needed to fucking get over himself and he’d be the person he wanted. The person Eliot wanted.

Eliot had the slightest bit of stubble, it was rough and cool against Quentin's cheek. Kissing him felt natural, and he liked feeling small. He liked that he had to stand on his toes, pull Eliot by his tie to bring him closer to his face.

“Fuck El I’m sorry.”

“Save your overthinking for the morning yeah?”

Quentin didn’t protest. Instead he let Eliot push him against a wall.

“Your a real tease Coldwater.” Eliot laughed.

Quentin was breathing heavily, he ducked out from under him and looked up towards his room, he was then dragged up there so fast he had to stumble.

Eliot started taking his clothes off. He wasn’t chiseled like Quentin had half heartedly imagined, he was spindly and soft. Skinny, but you could still tell he indulged in  a fair few drinks now and again. Quentin wanted to kiss every part of it.

Eliot looked into Quentin's eyes as he tried pulling his shirt off, asking for permission. Quentin gulped and nodded.

Quentin didn’t have that many scars. He was careful about that, and many looked more random. Done with blunt objects at weird angles. Took years before they started looking like anything besides an accident.

Eliot kept kissing him. He tasted like caramel. Quentin took a moment to remember it's been years since he’d been kissed.

“Fuck, El.”

Eliot went even further, grabbing him, touching him. Rough and slow. Quentin could barely breathe, he let himself focus on the fact this was Eliot in front of him. Eliot, who wasn't going to hurt him.

Eliot pressed up against him, attacking him hungrily. Pitifully Quentin tried to push him off. But Eliot kept him there at his mercy.

Quentin made himself keep going, he was gonna keep going.

Soon both were just in underwear. Quentin gasping for air. All of it was to much. It was good and bad and sticky and pointless. The floor swayed under his feet.

“Can we, slow down?”

“Really Coldwater? So anxious a minute ago.” He teased

“I'm sorry I just haven't..”

“Holy shit. Your actually a Virgin.”

“No.” Quentin said, attempting a playful punch. It just made him look weak. “But it's been awhile.”

“Awhile?”

“Like 2 years.”

“Jesus, hell of a dry spell.”

“Not that either just uh. The last time I did this I uh.. Fuck I? I didn't chose to.”

Eliot sat down on the bed, returning to himself. Quentin felt it vaguely resembled disappointment though, Eliot’s disbelief this was really happening had finally caught up with him.

“Shit Q. We don't have to do this then, or don't feel like pressured too..”

“But I want to, with you.”

Quentin planted a kiss on his jaw, chaste and slow.

“But Quentin, I don’t know how to make you feel..okay I guess.”

“Then don’t.”

“What?”

“I want to do this El, I have to. He’s fucked up my life enough. I just need to get over it. Then I’ll be okay.”

Eliot kissed him again, but it was obvious to him Quentin was still tense, almost shaking. At random intervals he would see his mouth and neck begin to twitch.

“Q I think you may be taking this to fast..”

“No.” Quentin giggled, he sounded drunk.

Quentin pushed Eliot onto the bed and straddled him, making Eliot ashamed of how much he liked it.

“This is what you want isn’t it?”

“Of course Q, but I think you may wanna, I don’t know, talk about this first?”

“Why should we? Can’t we just have fun? I’m the only thing in the way.”

“Q your kinda..”

“Fragile? Well fuck that.”

“I was gonna fucking scaring me Quentin.”

“What happened to saving our overthinking for the morning?” Quentin said snuggling up closer to him, but he felt stiff and raw.

“You told me you were what, fucking assaulted? That you haven’t had sex in years? I’m okay if you need to stop.”

Quentin grabbed Eliot hand and placed it on him. He was laughing, teasing, but it came out like crying. He was fucking terrified. Eliot finally pushed him off him.

“Quentin I’m not doing this tonight okay?” He said calmly, like trying to keep a skittish alleycat from running away. “I really don’t want to fuck this up.”

“But I want you!” Quentin pouted, but the pain behind his eyes left Eliot convinced Quentin wasn't fooled by his own act anymore.

“Just do it! Just do it please!” He pleaded, banging against Eliot's chest, snot and droll dripping down his face as he lost control.

“You just sleep Q. I’ll be right next door.”

As soon as he was gone Quentin cursed and punched his headboard. He crashed hard, and his body started to burn as he fell asleep.

 


	9. Duality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quentin tells Eliot about what happened before Brakebills

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Refrenced/implied non-con

Quentin didn’t wake up that morning, or that afternoon, or that evening. Quentin stayed in bed, mourning. 

Quentin pondered there were two types of anger you could feel when confronted with something you didn't want to. There was a wet one. It dribbled down your chin and tears sprang from your eyes. Turned your head and limbs into slip. Quentin was this kind of angry before.

But there was another, the dry kind. It made you ridgid and crack lipped, everything cold and calculated. Staying under the covers kept off the wind chill, so there Quentin stayed. And he thought about things.

He thought about the time he tried to kill himself. About how it didn’t work, and how Julia found him. Despite Julia assumptions, he was terrible at hiding things when he was scared. And Quentin Coldwater had been fucking terrified. Like he still was.

Quentin slid into Eliot’s bedroom in the hours between the soft moonlight lighten evening and the all encanvasing abyss of total darkness. The two kinds of night you only know if you’ve ever stayed up a whole one. Eliot let him snuggle up to him.

“Can I talk about it?”

“Don’t think you have to ask permission Q.”

He took a deep breath, “His name was Carter. He was a few years older, a lot of years older. I was 19 and he was 26 I think? I know not much in the grand scheme but even when I was 19, I wasn’t exactly 19. I’ve been in gifted programs since I was 9, Julia and James too. Actually James showed up when we were 11, but besides each other we didn’t really talk to other kids. And my Mom left around then and my Dad wasn’t real talker so suffice to say I was moderately socially maladjusted. So yeah, Julia and Fillory up until that point. I was 19, but I was more like 15.”

“Explains some things.” Eliot said, he almost laughed. Quentin needed it.

“But yeah, college. I was still living at home at that point, cause it’s Brooklyn, what’s the point? Julia got into the party scene, let's face it she's smart and pretty, you want to be around her. She’d drag me along sometimes, I started experimenting with stuff. Booze mostly, though I can’t really hold it. And people. 

The whole “sexulaity” thing wasn’t exactly a blank spot. Wasn’t like a source of shame or whatever I just didn't really know what it was. Hell, I lived in New York, but in case we need to reiterate the fact I was socially stunted, and my Dad was kinda conservative. Though I guess I don’t know how he would have took it, never got around to telling him. Just kinda became another thing I couldn't understand or, control. I guess.

So I met him at a party with Jules, I was pretty drunk and ended up having sex. For the first time, actually. It was weird and I still wasn’t completely sure what it meant, but he was nice then.”

Quentin took Eliot’s hand in his own, and held it tightly.

“He latched onto me, I liked it at first. He’d talk to me for hours and for a bit it was better. The Depression and stuff. I felt, loved? But he kept wanting sex, and pictures. I didn’t want to, all the time. He’d yell at me, and like the kid I was I hid. Julia and James were dating then, so kinda a perfect storm, I wasn’t left with a whole lot of people. I just kinda, slipped away.”

“You don’t have to worry about that here Q. You know that right?”

“Yeah, and I’m not mad at her for it. Life got in the way, I think she just assumed I grew up. But I moved in with him after a few months, he didn’t like that I spent time I spent away from him, something like that. It just got worse, he would hit me sometimes. I was just so fucking weak.” He said through clenched teeth, his knuckles white around Eliot’s hand.

“You were abused Q. Don’t think your weak just because your a guy or whatever. You were a fucking kid.”

Quentin didn’t address the point.

“So yeah eventually Jules started to notice I wouldn’t come to anything anymore. I’m not sure what I was more scared to tell her, that I was dating a guy or dating a guy like him. So I cut her out even more, I chose him. I hurt her, because I chose him.

And I don’t really think he meant to hurt me. He never broke a bone it was just bruises. And sex, when I didn’t want it. And it would get worse.”

“Q you can take a break if you need to.”

Tears had started to fall from Quentins eyes. But his voice was subtle and narrow. Numb.

“So one night I had enough, I tried to leave. Bag packed and everything. We were fighting, he kept hitting me. And then he grabbed his gun..”

“Q, this isn’t okay as your making it sound.”

“He made me have sex with him and he hurt me pretty bad. I was bleeding and everything. I don’t even know what the gun was from but he never told me about his job, he just always seemed to have money. He bought me my first fucking edition Fillory book.”

“Oh my God, Q.”

“Best part!” Q said, a sick twinge of ironic laughter infecting his voice, “After he did it, he went to bed. Just, to bed, without a thought. So I called Julia, told her to pick me up a block away.”

“That was brave of you Q.”

“I’d already taken the pills El, I just wanted her to be the one to find the note.”


	10. Felt-Tipped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quentin expirements with opening up to people

Quentin Coldwater wasn't sure if the truth was all that liberating.

His heart to heart with Eliot hadn't exactly felt good at the time, it still didn't. Felt like an acknowledgment  it was all real.

The whole Eliot's a guy thing stressed him out, for sure. For so long he had associated guys with Carter, and he had been drunk or pinned down pretty much every time. The fact that he was attracted to Eliot after that was well, surprising.

Quentin chose to ignore how his guts felt all twisted up after hearing what he said out loud. Eliot had tried comforting him, but even he could see Quentin was getting cagey, and the suicide attempt felt like a conversation that needed to happen with Julia first.

But Quentin went to class that morning Alice anyhow. After last night Quentin had realized how little he knew about her. Sure rumors, and her talent, spoke for themselves. But sometimes there's a story only one person knows, only one person can tell.

“So I know we're not super good, friends but, can I ask you something?”

“Uh sure Quentin.”

“You come from a family of magicians right?”

She spat it out defensively “Yeah, and if your gonna accuse me of getting a leg up from that-”

“No Im not.” Quentin cut her off. “I just wanted to know, after people graduate here, do they get, better?”

Puzzled, Alice asked, “Better how?”

“Like, all the shit that happened before, let's face it this place seems to be the Gods ashtray when it come to miserable people but there's, hope I guess? I don't know maybe I ask to many questions but I-”

“Quentin. Brakebills isn't the thing that makes people better. A thing can't change you.”

Quentin felt his heart sunk even further into his chest, shriveling up.

“I just thought, since they sell all of this as a fix..”

Without missing a beat.

“So do drug dealers. And prostitutes. And travel agents. And realtors. Everyone thinks they can fix it for you Quentin. They can help, they can really help. But you have to let them.”

It was sage advice, the kind Q wasn't used to getting. The thought about it, but all just seemed to lead to dead ends in his mind. Wistfully pawing at some profound conclusion with his eyes closed.

“So, if you need help, I can, lots of people can. But magic won't just solve everything, so stop thinking it can.”

They went to class in silence, Alice keenly eyeing him over time and again. She once seemed to glare at him, her painful scrutiny as Quentins hands disappeared under his desk. When he saw her after class he gave her his bag.

“Just, if you could go through and, throw away anything I shouldn't have. I don't think I could do it myself.”

Alice gave him the bag back a couple hours later. She took the knife he’d stole, his packs of tissues, and the vaseline. He realized next class she’d also taken all his pens, and replaced them with the soft, felt tipped kind. They came in all sorts of colors. She stuck a post-it in his minor mending notes.

_ Your not as good as I hoped Quentin Coldwater, but your better than you know _


	11. Penny for Your Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Penny can read minds, there are a few things on Quentins

Quentin Coldwater didn’t hurt himself for 9 days. He wasn’t sure if he should feel prideful or just, normal. But 10 was tomorrow morning. It was no less arbitrary than the rest, but Quentin saw the appeal in whole numbers much as anyone else.

He hadn't told Eliot, because Eliot thought it made been a lot longer than that. He was still disappointed Eliot knew at all. Quentin could barely tell when he was doing it anymore, the little things were so second nature.

Quentin went to coffee. He wanted to be with Eliot but apparently he was busy nursing Margo post break up. Quentin didn't join, he didn't really even notice they were dating. The boy had just seemed like some gaudy dollar store trinket she was aimlessly fondling til she grew bored.

Penny went with him.

Yes, the two were roommates. And much like Alice Quentin realized he knew precisely zero about him. Like actual zero besides the fact he was from Florida. Even that was never explicitly stated, just assumed by how offended he got whenever someone made a joke about Florida news. 

“So Penny, how’re classes going?”

“Your in all of them Dumbass.”

Okay Quentin knew two things about Penny, he was from Florida, and a raging dick.

“I heard that..”

Three things about Penny. He could read minds, cause why the fuck not.

“Sorry I just thought since we never really talked..”

“I think you did plenty of talking Coldwater.Your not what a psychic calls quiet.”

“Wait so you know about-”

“Not all of it. Look I’m a psychic but there's only so much I can pick up on. They teach you here to control it but almost everything's still disjointed. As much as I know you won’t believe it it's basically just empathy at this point.”

“Empathy?” Quentin chuckled.

Penny crossed his arms in pseudo embarrassment. “Yeah so do me a favor and don't let people know i’m genetically predisposed to give a shit about people's _feelings_.”

“Secrets safe, pinkie promise.” 

Penny just rolled his eyes. “But like congrats, on 10 days I guess.”

“I thought-”

“You’ve been feeling like absolute shit for 9 days. Figured it was because you stopped whatever was “helping” before, and I’ve seen you change.”

Quentin couldn’t help but feel flustered.

“Everyone copes Coldwater. But good on you if your gonna try get over whatever made you want to do it in the first place.”

The pair sat in silence before talking about something arbitrary. Then about the girl that that would sneak into their room as Quentin snuck out to get to Eliot’s. Her name was Kady, she was rough around the edges. Penny loved her.

Quentin wasn’t sure which one of them realized it first, but what they felt for those people, how they talked about them, was the same. When Quentin mentioned Eliot, Penny felt like Kady was right there next to him. Quentin was falling in love.

***

For what was like 4th time at this point Quentin Coldwater kissed Eliot Waugh.

“I’m sorry I fucked up, I’m sorry I kept secrets. I’m not okay.” Quentin took a deep breath, it stung because it was true. “I might take time for me to be okay. But I’m gonna try, and if you want to, with me. Just, can we?”

Eliot didn’t cut him off. Quentin expected Eliot to tell him what he was supposed to feel. But Quentin Coldwater needed to learn to trust, and that meant speaking for himself when he needed too.

“I’ve never been in a relationship before Eliot. Ever time I ever did it, I was drunk, or forced, or both. Even when I told him I loved him, he would hit me sometimes, because I was just some worthless faggot or something. I don’t trust people. But you help me. I’m 10 days clean tomorrow El.”

“10?”

 Quentin started babbling, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I’m so fucking stupid I-”

Eliot embraced him. 

“I’m so proud of you Q.”

Quentin wanted to wipe away his tears, but that meant leaving Eliot’s arms, and he wasn't ready to do that quite yet. He still flinched, it still hurt. But Eliot was easy to believe in.

“Can we try this? Can I try being with you El?”

Eliot kissed Quentin, “I would like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi enjoy the fluff before one of these dumbasses fucks it up for the sake of the plot


	12. Thirty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quentin and Eliot celebrate a month clean, the protective Eliot we need. Margo points out the obvious.

It took awhile, far longer than 30 days, but Quentin Coldwater was a month clean. 

“Bambi I have to make this perfect! And he doesn’t know it but but the trials start tomorrow and I need a romantic soiree with my little nerd before he leaves.”

“What anniversary is this even? Date just seems kinda, random.”

“It’s just, personal, for him.”

“Since when has anything between us been personal?”

“Between you and me Bambi, nothing. But you can ask him if you want. I just don’t want to lose his trust, or what I have of it at least. I’ve just been fighting for scraps.”

“I swear El that kids mouth must be magic if your willing to go this far for him.”

Eliot knew what she meant, she was wondering why Eliot put up with the bullshit at all. He wondered, sometimes.

“Actually we haven’t.”

Margo laughed, then stopped. “Holy shit really?”

“Yeah. I mean we almost did once but shit kinda went sideways. I just don’t want to rush him.”

Of all the things Margo excelled at, subtly was not one.

“El. I know you care about him, and I’m getting i don’t know the whole story. But is he really worth it? I know we don’t really talk about it but, you need someone to take care of you too.”

Eliot didn’t respond, not because he didn’t know the answer. He took another shot before he spoke again.

“Look can you just wake him up, breakfast is ready.”

Her eyes took him up and down as she loitered a moment more. She was waiting, begging for Eliot to acknowledge what apparently she already had. He didn’t.

Instead, begrudgingly, she fetched Quentin, who looked at Eliot painfully as he realized his Bambi had dragged Quentin into the common room in his short sleeve sleep shirt. Wasn’t that Margo would make terrible deal out of it, if anything it would make her more sympathetic. Or then again she might kill either of them on account of their insufferable stupidity, who knew.

But Quentin changed, and ate more of the food Eliot had made than he expected. He could tell Quentin was on edge. He chose not to address it, he was still pretty drunk.

By the end of the day Quentin was done with class and they went to their spot on the porch, Quentin attempting to snuggle up to Eliot without seeming to tense. He’d gotten better, the fact that he tried at all, but something wasn’t right.

“You know you can relax with me right? I’m not going to hit you.”

“I know.” He said meekly. “I’m just nervous for, after this.”

“What do you mean?”

“You did all this stuff for me, I have to pay you back.”

“Pay me back?”

“I knew you weren’t going to wait forever. That’s why you wanted to do all this, so you could-”

“Stop Quentin.” He cut him off firmly.

“I’m sorry I’m so sorry Eliot!-” He frantically stammered.

“Of course I want to have sex with you Quentin! I want to be with you. But I’m not going to force you into something like that. You _never_ owe _anyone_ sex okay? You can say no whenever you want.”

Pained, Quentin buried his chin in his chest. “I’m sorry Eliot.”

“Don’t be. Don’t be sorry for what happened Q, and never feel sorry for him. You wanted me to take care you, if that means teaching you to protect yourself, even from people you trust, then it does. I won’t do anything unless your ready Q, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Now lets celebrate yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Quentin didn’t drink even though Eliot thought he was, instead he focused on every moment Eliot did something for him no one else had. Eliot drank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hii next chapter the trials and phewy do we know thats gonna fuck this up so enjoy the fluff(??) (or well Qs learning what consent means anyways) before that lol(not really)


	13. Trials

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quentin and Alice on the rooftop during the trials. Some canon divergence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an AU fic, Alice doesn't know the truth about Charlie yet. Also I've been ignorong the beast cause lets face it, that bitch was spooky and annoying.

Quentin held his own during the trials. Well sorta. Yeah he’d passed the first task by cheating and created a black hole during Welters but take what you can get. Oh and the panic attack after Margo drugged him ,that would be a tricky one to explain. He considered just letting Eliot tell her everything, he was getting kinda tired of her glares when she thought he wasn’t looking. He had a psychic as a roommate for God's sake, he could tell when someone was looking where they shouldn’t be. But he wouldn’t be entirely surprised if Margo knew his mother's maiden name and social security number  anyhow.

He’d barely had time to think about the call he’d gotten from his Dad. Cancer. It hadn’t really hit him yet, he didn’t think. Quentin's father had always been detrimental to himself, Quentin's mother a prime example, but the last thing Quentin expected was for his body to turn on him.

But now Quentin was getting lectured on a sick torture device he was convinced was invented by a magic sex cult. Secrets Magic.

“This can’t be real right? Just some stupid plot so they can video tape us playing naked truth or dare.”

Alice sighed, but not in condescending way, which was refreshing. Just resigned. “It’s real.”

Before he knew it him and Alice Quinn were on the labs roof, fucking freezing.

“You’d think they’d at least have the courtesy to have us do this is the summer.” She murmured.

“You mean you’d prefer to have the quad packed with students?”

“Good point.”

“So what do we have to do exactly?”

“Oh nothing much, just tie ourselves up and divulge our deepest secret. In the nude, cause why the fuck not.”

It was odd, Alice Quinn wasn’t one he pegged as having a sharp tongue, sarcasm dripping from her lips.

She looked him up and down.

“Look I don’t want to do this either but we kinda have to.”

Quentin took a moment to realize what she meant. “Oh..”

“Look it shouldn’t be that weird okay? Not to pry but aren’t you, you know?”

“Kinda.”

“Well then..” She took off her shirt, Quentin averted his eyes out of habit.

“Aren’t you gonna?”

“Um okay can I just, I don’t think I can?”

“If its about your scars Quentin, its fine. I don’t need to know everything about them, we just need to pass this test.”

“Or we flunk out.”

“Yeah, and I don’t get what I came here for.”

Tentatively Quentin removed his shirt. He could see Alice's grimace when she saw there how many there were, how spread out they were.

“Jesus Q.”

“Yeah, but uh, I’m a little more than a month clean if it means anything.”

“That’s great Q.”

“Yeah.”

It felt strange to be proud of himself for something that wasn't really an accomplishment. He’d just kept his head above water, done the bare minimum to function as a somewhat stable person. Alice didn’t have any scars.

Quentin made it to his boxers before he realized he was scratching his arm, hard. He had the physically grab his hand to get himself to stop.

“Fuck.”

“Are you okay?” Alice asked, now only in her underwear.

“Sorry I just, don’t realize when I’m doing it sometimes.” He held out his arm, raised red lines dancing across it.

“Maybe the better we tie you up the better.”

Another thing about Alice Quinn, she was nothing if not pragmatic.

“And as awful as it is to say out loud..you need to strip for me first.”

Quentin took a deep breath. He felt robbed, sort of. Carter was the last person to see him naked, he’d wanted his first time since then to be with Eliot. And Eliot was teaching him to say no to things, but he couldn't say no to this, That meant losing Brakebills, which meant losing everything.

But he did it, he was shaking, either from panic or the cold, Alice couldn’t tell anyways. But in a few minutes, weird as it fucking was, Quentin was engaging in a nude bondage ritual. Again, what the fuck Fogg.

“I was raped.”

The word felt funny in his mouth, but it’s what Eliot wanted him to call it. Was teaching him to call it. The ropes remained on his hands.

“Shit. Okay.” Alice said. “So that’s why you were weird about getting naked then.”

“Besides the obvious I guess. I’m still kinda getting over it.”

“How long ago?”

“Two years, I was 19. I know it seems like a lot but, it wasn’t the only time I guess.”

“I’m sorry we have to do this, like this, but, how’d it happen? Was it one of your professors or something?”

“No it was my first boyfriend. First relationship. I can’t say what he was feeling but he wasn’t okay with, liking guys I guess. Kinda took it out on me. That and other stuff. But he was controlling, and I was young and stupid. Cut all my ties, did everything for him, but he would still hit me, called me a faggot, a bitch. Sex when I didn’t want it. It wasn’t, good.”

It all hurt, but every time he thought about what Carter did wrong, he thought about something someone else here had done for him right.

“I tried to leave but he took out his gun, he was into some shady stuff, and, raped me, I guess. Wasn’t the first time he’d done something like that but never with his gun, and there was a lot of blood and I couldn’t really walk. So yeah I was abused, that's what Eliot likes me calling it. He’s been helping me, try understand how that stuff should work I guess.”

“That's good, that's good for you Quentin.”

But he could tell what she was focusing on, the ropes were still on his wrists, and if that shit didn’t count they were fucked.

“I mean, the worst thing that's ever happened to me was my brother. He died here, a few years ago. Penny knows about it some, he was helping me research for a little bit before we put a pin in it. I don’t know how he died, no one will tell me. They just keep adding on different excuses. I snuck in here, figured if I was a student I would have enough time to figure out the mystery.”

Still nothing.

“Maybe I’m scared that the reason I can't figure it out is we thought to much alike. That he knew were I would look so he made sure I would never know what really happened. Just, I wouldn't be all that surprised if he did it himself.”

“Alice I’m sorry. I mean you’ve talked about him before sometimes, I know he meant a lot.”

“Yeah, and i’m scared that if he couldn't handle it, then I can't either.”

“Yeah, I mean. It wasn’t the first time, but the closest I got was the night it happened. I took some pills.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah, I was enough of any asshole I called my best friend to tell her where to find the body.”

“My God, Quentin. And what do you mean, not the only time?”

“Neurochemically, God kinda dealt me a shitty hand.”

Still nothing.

“Maybe we get drunk?”

“Definitely.”

***

About an hour later and Quentin drunk more than he was pretty sure he had in the past year combined. He could barely keep his eyes open, which was painful reassurance this was all the help they were gonna get. Take it on your own from here, read ‘em and weep.

Quentin wasn’t sure why, but he figured nutting out his life story wasn’t a terrible place to start when it came to secrets magic.

So he talked about the hospital, about waking up after he did it. That wonderful awful moment when you thought you’d really done it just for the walls to come crashing down on you. Every time he’d broken Julia's heart.

Alice talked about her family who were way more fucked than she gave herself credit for. And also explained how she knew so much about casting a nude magic ritual. She talked about Charlie and high school and jokingly admitted that her deepest secret was any photo of her from 2008. Apparently Quentin was not the only one to indulge in hair dye and eyeliner.

When the sun came up they were left with nothing, maybe that's what made it work.

“And after Charlie, my parents. I convinced myself I didn't need any of it. But I do, I’m not above it, why would I be? And I’m good, I’m scared of how good I am, and scared I’ll get as good as he did. Better. I’m terrified of how powerful I could be.”

“Sometimes I get scared. Well a lot, I’m still fucking shaking but sometimes I’m scared it wasn’t real.”

“What wasn’t?”

“Any of it? The stuff with Carter, I think I made it all up. That he never really hurt me, that I still love him. That I hurt him when I ran away. And the pills? Was I really feeling that bad? Was I just confused or attention seeking or something? Cause I can’t separate any of it or remember any of it and I try pick apart my life to fix it but what's the point if I’m just building my identity on something that isn't real? Because why would he hurt me like that?”

Alice put his hand on his shoulder, he was crying.

“Alice your hands.”

“Look at yours.”

Quentin and Alice fell off the roof, then flocked towards to sky.


	14. Free Will

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quentin and Alice are given a "specail exam".

As a goose, Quentin didn’t need to think about anything. That wasn’t always a good.

He couldn't think, couldn't process, his tiny brain simply didn't have the capacity. All he felt was impulse, raw an animalistic telling him what to feel. All he could do was feel without any explanation as to why.

But when he came back it was a new kind of frustrating.

As his lips would blister under the oppressive bite of the tundra his head went numb. So did his appendages. A fair amount could also be attributed to the lichen vodka, which was one of the crueler devices mankind had ever conceived.

Quentin couldn’t feel, so all he thought about was the whys. Over-analyzing every second of his life, every decision he made to wonder where it went wrong. He blamed people, he thanked people, he realized how many didn't have an effect at all. But he couldn’t really feel any of the pain, it was just so far away.

But apart from his inner monologue--which at this point was a tad more than stale and depressive--Quentin was meant to learn magic under Mayakovsky, who  **_was_ ** the cruelest thing mankind ever conceived.

He reeked of booze and his sweaters of vomit. The choice to wear white was clearly a poor one. Quentin imagined Eliot and Margo here, attempting some sort of makeover. 

But Quentin, as it where, had just been told his latest assignment. Mind Control.

It was a difficult feat in the best of circumstances, and the best at it were usually manipulative cunts. One girl was particularly gifted at this feat, Quentin made a mental note to steer clear in the future. But Quentin wasn't doing the spell, he was letting a moth, that ugly, inconsequential little creature, crawl along his hand.

“Idiot! Can you not do the spell or what?”

“I won’t. It’s a living thing, I won’t control it.”

“Notice how you said, it? Its a bug, that any other day you would have crushed underfoot.”

“Quentin's right.” Alice perked up. “We shouldn’t be learning this at all, they should have free will.”

Quentin exhaled as Mayakovsky recentered his attention. He was so close to Alice's face she could feel herself getting dunk of his breath.

“This animals, they do not think like you and me. There is no “free will” for them. There is only impulse. Bug knows no difference.”

“But-”

“Both of you, now!”

“What are we?-”

“Special exam , just the two of you.”

Quentin and Alice looked at each other, both fearful and resigned. They follow him to a wide hallway, at the end of which was a great set of doors.

Quentin and Alice, without clothes, where shoved out them. Then impulse, the effort to survive, turned them into foxes.

Mayakovsky was right in a sense. Emotions, urges, they weren't the same. They were lawless, chaotic, unclouded. Every thought became action if it made you warm. Made you alive for a split second longer.

Quentin, who was arguably no longer Quentin, then had sex with Alice Quinn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter deals more with aftermath, i just perfer shorter chapters for more seperation.


	15. Hurt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quentin and Alice talk about foxes. Alice might have to slap a bitch

The water was hot, so so hot. His skin was red as blood, he couldn’t get it off him. He felt so dirty, so exposed. Shame sinking deep into his core.

_ I Hurt Alice, I can’t believe I hurt Alice. _

Free Will. Quentin was meant to lose faith in it, now he was just obsessed with it.

Before Quentin's brain had only been able to handle one side of feeling, reminded him of the nickels he used to make disappear as he slogged along the soggy sidewalks of Brooklyn. 

There was feeling so deep you couldn’t see a bottom. It swallowed you up and chucked you to the wolves. Or you were numb, pain the only thing that takes the pain away. But this was everything. It was pain that buried itself in his chest, but every time he reached for it it just dug even deeper.He felt all of it and none of it at the same time.

Quentin, under influence, but nonetheless Quentin, had had sex with Alice, who was under the influence, but nonetheless Alice. He took something from her.

Quentin thought about the rooftop, when he said sometimes he questioned if it was ever real. He didn’t have to question it anymore.

Quentin knew Carter would have never done this to him, because how could anyone? How could anyone just, take. All his memories, they were all jumbled up now. He remembered that night with Carter, that day with Alice. How Quentin was taking a shower, like nothing had happened. Just like when Carter went to bed.

But Carter hadn’t, no he hadn’t, because he’d never hurt Quentin. Quentin had hurt Carter, he’d betrayed him when he tried to run away. Quentin deserved what he got. Quentin was always the monster.

Quentin took. He’d taken from Alice what he’d had taken from him. What he’d become convinced he’d had taken from him.

He didn’t know what to do, because you can’t always fix what you’ve broke. And things broke around-

“Quentin?”

Alice stepped into the shower with him, her robe abandoned on the floor.

“A-alice. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry..”

“What for?”

“What I did to you, I’m a monster I’m and idiot I’m fucking  _ horrible _ for what I did to you.”

“Just breathe Q, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Quentin crouched down on the floor.

“I hurt you, I really really hurt you.”

Without missing a  beat she got down next to him, the water still crashing against them. She winced against the heat.

“Q I know I’m not qualified or whatever but what do you think you did?”

“I made you, have sex. I forced you.”

“No you didn't Quentin. Hard as it is to take in, that wasn't really us. That was fox us, the foxes wanted too Quentin. I wanted it.”

“Alice you can say it. Don't pretend. I know how much it hurts.”

Alice paused, clearly unknowing what to make of all this.

“Quentin, was that your first time with a girl?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, so do you think because I’m a girl, you were hurting me? Because you were the one doing it?”

“It hurts Alice, it hurts so bad.”

“It shouldn't.”

“What?”

“Sex isn't supposed to hurt Quentin. It didn't when we did it. I wanted it, and you did too. Or fox us did anyway. You didn't hurt me.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't be, not for what you think.”

“Not that even, for just, not know how any of this, works I guess. I, I've never had sex without being too drunk or high to really know what's happening. And when he did it hurt, it always hurt. He'd pin me down most of the time.”

“That wasn't sex Q. That was assault. And all that guilt your feeling, you don't need too. You didn't hurt me. Your not him.”

Quentin kept crying, “But that means, he felt this? He knew he was hurting me?”

“He wasn't good Quentin. Just know that other people are.”

But Quentin wasn’t thinking rational, compartmentally. All he knew was that the dominance he’d felt felt soiled and grimy on his hands. That was how Cater felt, and he did it anyway.

“How could he?”

“I don't know babe. I don't know.”

Alice eventually coerced Quentin out of the shower and managed to pull him into a pair of sweats. Once Quentin sat down he didn't get back up for awhile, just curled in a ball on his bed. Alice left for a minute, and he heard her yelling through the door.

_ “What the fuck I mean what the  _ **_fuck_ ** _ you  _ **_cunt_ ** _!” _

_ “Calm down little girl. You think you have power here?” _

_ “I'm more powerful than you think.  _

_ You hurt him! He has problems, you have to have been aware of that, and I'm 99 percent sure he had PTSD and you made it  _ **_so_ ** _ much worse for him.” _

_ “Your the one who fucked him.” _

_ “You were  _ **_watching_ ** _? Ugh just shut up okay! You pushed us out the door! And what happened to animals not having free will huh? He's allowed to chose if he wants it without life or death circumstances!” _

_ “Life's a bitch, better he learn now.” _

Quentin was pretty sure Alice slapped him after that, but Mayakovsky seemed to drunk to remember, or even really notice.

Alice slept in the chair next to Quentin, her head lolling back as everything took her over. Quentin cast a spell that made him fall asleep, because nothing felt like all he could manage right now. Carter had hurt Quentin, known what he was doing when he hurt him. It a dangerous thing to realize how badly something hurt you after the fact, cause you realize all the time you’ve lost. Quentin realized he’d been hurt by someone he loved, and loving someone doesn't keep them from hurting you. 

Quentin begged Eliot was there as he fell asleep, so someone would tell him love and hurt didn't mean the same thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ik my take prob a wee untraditional on Qs reaction but this is fucking fanfic so who gives a shit. Also I like Alice geting over her meekness to protect Q and realize her power. Also realizing i haave 99 pages of Queliot in a google doc between everything ive ever written. Jesus fuck I have a problem, tahanks 4x05 for getting me obsessed and 4x13 for making me wanna kill myslef.


	16. Nightstand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliot thinks about how fucking hard it is to be the strong one and trust

Eliot spent a lot of time thinking, most of it with someone under him.

He didn't know if it was a subconscious effort to sabotage himself or just bad habit, but he did. None of them that special, none went anywhere, but Eliot had now been forced from the parisian, sweeping footpaths of campus and out into the real world in search of variety. The real world being New York or Bambi’s London portal, which sometimes would drop you in a public fountain as opposed to a pub. It was a persnickety little bitch.

Margo was being a bit of a bitch too. Sometimes they were inseparable. Perfect, shiny, sparkly facades that were so close to being real. But sometimes it all came crashing down. Eliot figured maybe she was bored, started scratching at the surface of him in hopes she would find something underneath. But faces are just that Bambi, your looking in the wrong place, even if there was anything to find.

Eliot was staving off a bad hangover and snooping through Quentin's room, because not like he would notice. Wasn't like he expected to find anything either. Eliot was oh, oh so tempted to clean it, but he could tell when something was an organized chaos.

Shit covered literally every surface, he wasn’t sure how Penny handled it. Quentin didn’t seem particularly fond of laundry either, Eliot would have to fix that. Once Margo warmed up to him he was sure makeover would be the first word out of her mouth.

Then came the moment he usually dreaded, the moment what he was doing caught up to him. Why the fuck was he looking through Quentin's room? It was pointless, invasive, and he'd have much rather Quentin be the one to give him the tour. But Eliot, missed Quentin. He’d never missed a boy before. 

Eliot had attempted to rationalize what he felt for Quentin a lot. He considered a savior complex, but Eliot didn’t tend to give a shit about people so that was discounted pretty quick. Maybe this was just some glorified conquest. He was used to being able to get anyone to wake up next to him, that was if Eliot bothered to stay for cuddling. Maybe he couldn’t give up until he had ownership of it, or something like that.

Eliot thought about the first guy he’d even fallen for. His name was Jason, he was pretty and had curly hair. They’d been friends or, something like that. As friends as anyone was with Eliot, who even before his proclivities became clear was never really that well liked. He remembered all it did was fuck him over because he didn't want to lose his family yet, who in the end would do nothing but fuck him over anyways.

Eliot had promised himself that loving hurt too bad. True he was 15 and stubbornly lonely- but it still rang worryingly true. There was a reason it was his secret during the trials. He was scared of love, it felt worrying and abusive. He wasn't sure if he ever wanted to find it.

Still Eliot was sulking in Quentin's room, drunk with deep black circles around his eyes. His facade in such a state of disarray it resemble Coldwaters fucking nightstand. He was falling for someone who in all likelihood could never trust him. And how could Eliot trust Quentin then! All of it just seemed like a garbage fire that would require constant attention, and sometimes, most of of the time, Eliot didn’t need that. Couldn't he just be content with nothing? Sitting in silence with Margo, waiting for her to say fucking anything that mattered, and him eventually growing a pair so he could tell her something that did? Mindless sex and reading and grasping for something in the middle of the night? And the more he thought about it, why the fuck did he want his life like it was? He was sad, and lonely, he was waiting for something that was never going to come to him, but he was just too fucking scared or content to go get it.

Quentin would be back from Brakebills South soon. Best to leave his things alone.


	17. Psychologist Eliot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliot overthinks things, Quentin doesn't. Can we call it progress?

When Quentin came back from Brakebills South, he was different. He wasn't as low energy as before, sloppy and lethargic. He studied, he studied like a madman, and even helped Eliot cook sometimes. The fact he was shit at it didn't make a difference, however he did always put spoons aside for Margo, which was very well revived.

But Quentin hadn't said a word of what happened there. Eliot hoped it was because maybe he'd come out on the other side already, no point getting your shoes dirty again when you've already hiked the trail. The dirts already been scraped out from under your fingernails, the garden can wait until tomorrow.

Quentin had kissed Eliot upon his arrival. Eliot wasn't really sure what he expected, they weren't really anything besides friends before he’d left, they still really weren't, but it made him feel a lot guiltier than he'd planned.

It had been a few days, Quentin would still sleep in Eliot's bed sometimes. Eliot didn’t have to wait until he was dead asleep to cuddle him anymore, Quentin let it happen. He’d even put his hand in Eliot's a few times, casually, but it was a big step for him, almost to big.

Which, psychologist Eliot deduced, meant Quentin had done one of three things.

One, by some miraculous force of nature, that force being a drunk old Russian, Quentin had actually overcome all of it. Q had actually faced his demons, head on, and won. Now he was just enjoying the spoils.

Two, Quentin had done something very, very stupid. Like memory magic stupid, because Eliot remembered seeing someone try pull that shit his first year, and being jealous he didn't think of it first. True shit went sideways and she couldn't remember how to use a fucking spoon but hey the chic didn’t remember something about her stepdad anymore. 

Three, Quentin went back to what he's done for 22 years before he came here, became a marvelous pretender. Which in all likelihood meant  he was or had been cutting.

Well show him what he’s won folks! Which of the magical doors of possibility had Quentin fucking Coldwater chosen, cause Eliot knows fuck all!

The one thing that helped was for one reason or another, Quentin had gotten closer with Margo--Eliot presumed while he himself was drunk or passed out--and at some point given her the cliffs notes. Something which for the most part Eliot had never even done, especially not sober. From what Margo had told him, Eliot assumed Quentin hadn't told her about the night he tried to leave, because why the fuck would he? She knew about the abuse before it, it was enough to make her apologize, and possibly made her an unofficial member of this unofficial organization called the “let's make sure Coldwater doesn't slit his wrists or some shit squad”. The only official thing about it was the name that of all people, Penny made up.

Eliot had no idea what Penny was in this for, sure him and Quentin had a frenemies vibe that bordered on the foreplay to some sort of BDSM, but the two really didn’t share anything besides a room. Eliot wondered if it was because of the whole psychic thing, like maybe he’d given up on ditching the kid, just figured he could get him quiet with enough ghetto therapy.

But Quentin wasn't in his room with Penny. He was, not very subtly, stumbling through the cottage doorway--onto a tipsy Eliot, quite literally  **_on_ ** a tipsy Eliot, and planted a kiss on his neck.

“Hey.” Quentin said, breaking the kiss for only a moment.

“Hey..what the fuck was that?”

“Can we call it progress?”

“Sure. Just uh, are you drunk?”

“I mean I had a beer with Penny but that was like an hour ago.”

“So this is all, you?”

“It always was Eliot.”

So Eliot and Quentin kissed, like actual kissing, which Quentin was surprisingly good at. Eliot liked that he still had his scruff from his time away, like he’d forgotten about shaving as a ritual, it had just became another unnecessary thing.

“Q, wanna go upstairs?”

“Yeah.” Slow and breathy.

So they stumbled together, a tangled collection of bodies.

They piled onto the bed, Quentin kept kissing Eliot as his legs swang off the side. He was so fucking unbelievably perfect.

Eliot noted that Quentin was trying not to make it obvious this was far as he wanted to go, tonight at least. He way his leg tensed when Eliot tried running his hand up it, and how he would grab it and move it somewhere else before Eliot could even notice. He’d give the kid something for all the card tricks, he certainly had a knack for misdirection.

But his lips were a very nice distraction, one Eliot didn’t mind in the slightest. He’d never had Quentin like this before, not since that first party at least. When Eliot just saw him as innocent and bashful, that dark part of him having gone dormant for awhile.

But that wasn’t Quentin, that was drunk traumatized Quentin. This was _Quentin_ , and he was falling for him. Just a touch, just enough to matter, barely enough to notice.

Psychologist Eliot thought about all his deductions, about how fucking out of the blue this was, and whether or not Eliot should feel guilty for taking advantage of it. Also if all this was just his compounding impatience, maybe even his imagination. It could wait for the morning anyway, and maybe for Eliot to sober up a little. A lot, this didn’t count if he was the drunk one right? He’d sleep it off, with his stupid nerd under his chin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiii i hope this doesnt all go to shit so bad and also this eliot doesnt sound like book julia at all haha gawd im unorginal but book el does kinda talk like that too so oh whale. Also im failing my classes and im spiraling bithes and since i dont use writing to cope AT ALL pray nothing dramatic happens i need to put Q through so Ican process it??


	18. Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alice and Quentin go to Olive Garden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey so you know that thing where i pretty much switched Alice and Eliots roles in Qs devolpment? well that means there ended up being more tension here than expected and this stories already long as shit so um, heres to hope i dig myself out of this hole???

Quentin was laying on Alice's bed, his head flopped of the side and he couldn’t get his hair out of his eyes. He may or may not have been daydreaming about rabbit pirates on the secret sea. Alice was doing her lab report at her desk a few feet away.

“So Alice.. Can I ask you to do something?”

She laughed at that, “Quentin that's literally all you do.”

“I know but, God it’s really stupid.”

“Now I’m interested.”

“I’m going on a date with Eliot.”

Suddenly she got all happy and squamish like a kid, excited to talk about their first crush. Him and Alice hadn’t been like that for awhile, it was like being at home with Julia.

“Like, date date!”

“Yeah like, date date..”

“So what do you need my help with them? Please tell me it's about an outfit. I don’t care who does it but someone has to dress you.”

“No!” He said throwing pillow at her. “Well it’s kinda two things.”

Alice twirled her fingers delicately, “Pray tell Coldwater.”

“One, I haven't a fucking clue what you do on a date.”

“How?”

“I mean I went to a dance with Julia in junior high but that consisted of my Dad taking us to Panda Express so I'm not really counting it. And Carter wouldn’t really be seen with me in public, and that was when he let me leave the apartment..”

He could se Alices face sour, this was getting to dark too fast. He made a immediate effort to be more chipper.

“And not like you really would know but what do two guys do on a date even? Like who pays?”

“I think if he’s taking you out then he does.”

“And if he’s cold do I have to give him my jacket? Or is it the other way around?”

“I think you're overthinking this.”

“Am I? I know it's sad but, I’m 22 and I’ve never been on a real date.”

It made Alice a little angry, when she was angry it brought out how young she looked, even though in all technicalities she was a year older.

“Alright, I have an idea then. I’m taking you out for a practice run.”

“What?”

“Tonight, we’re going to the city, your going to learn how a date works.”

“Alice..”

“Okay now get out of my room, pick me up in an hour. For the love of God, don’t wear a fucking flannel.”

And in a few moments, Quentin was shooed out of Alice's room and was forced to retreat back into his own to debate his limited wardrobe options. As much as he hated the thought, he may have to borrow something from Penny.

***

Okay, so Alice and Penny were assholes.

“Penny you actually told him that looked good?” She said doubling over laughing.

Quentin had gone full Penny on this one, because evidently besides his one ill fitting blazer that Eliot hated with the passion of a thousand suns, Quentin owned no formal clothing. Thus, here Quentin stood in his jeans and one of penny ridiculous shirts and scarves.

The way Penny dressed was peculiar, the point seemed to be that if people were pretty enough they could wear ugly clothes and it wouldn't make much of a difference, just make other people look jealous. Quentin wasn’t one of those people. The scarf didn’t help either. He didn't think such a scarf would do favors for anyone.

Penny smiled at Alice, a rare occurrence since Kady’s betrayal.

“Okay, so I’m a bit of a dick.”

“Yeah no shit.” Quentin said shyly.

“Here.” Penny said tossing him something. He winced when he touched it. “Kady got me this for when we sneak places. Literally the plainest thing I can think of.”

It was a black sweater, the sleeves were a little long on Quentin but it would do. If fact he liked the sleeves little long, gave him something to hold onto.

“We’ll have Margo take you out shopping before the actual date, but this is just practice.”

And so, Alice dragged him off. As he saw a random girl storm down the hall he realized part of the reason Penny was being so nice. Looks like he might sleep in Eliot's bed again tonight. Or maybe Alice’s, after South they'd kinda gotten in a habit.

She’d picked the Olive Garden, cause why the fuck not.

“I know it's cliche and very high school but I’m actually a slut for the breadsticks.”

Quentin was taken aback by how casual she could be once she was out of the Brakebills wards, or even just with him or Penny. As much as she might deny it, she played a part.

So they sat down, Quentin shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Olive gardens were eerily empty at 9pm.

“So Quentin, tell me everything you know about this date with Eliot. Are you guys officially dating yet?”

Quentin flushed red, “Yet? Do people think we are already?”

“You sleep in his bed every other night Quentin, forgive people for assuming.” She giggled.

“He's just, he's nice and doesn't, pressure me. I'm seriously not good enough for him.”

“Why would you say that Quentin?”

“Permission to be blunt?”

“Of course.”

“He hasn't even seen me naked yet. Is that weird? I mean Christians do it I guess but I still feel so horrible I haven't, given him what he wants you know?”

“It's okay to need time Quentin. You were kinda wreck after the foxes, and I don't think it would be much better with a guy again. And uh, permission to be blunt?”

“Wouldn't  have it any other way Quinn.”

“Would you date a girl? I'm sorry if it's rude just, before that I thought you were gay..”

“Yeah, I don't know really. I mean I like kissing girls or whatever, and what we did.. I don't really want to count that as experience if it's okay? I really hope your still okay with it but it was..involuntary? I guess? To be honest even I don't really know but it's nice to have the choice.”

“I get that. And I'm not offended or whatever. To be honest in part I feel the same way. Mayakovskys a bastard.” She said raising her glass.

“A fucking men to that.”

“But this date, where, when?”

“He said he’s taking me to the city, but like I have a fucking clue what that could entail with Eliot. I’m guessing a bar. God if he takes me to a gay bar..”

“No, if he takes you dancing!”

“Actually, Jesus this is so lame.” Quentin said, his eyes darting to the floor.“I fucking love dancing. I look like an idiot but I literally when to every school dance sus date for the dancing.”

“Oh my god your actually serious. I’m going to have to see this at some point.”

“Sure,” Quentin laughed, “Thank God you don’t know Julia, or else you would have about 3 hours of docu style footage.”

“Note to self. Befriend Julia.”

Quentin felt a pang in his chest, a reminder of all he had done to her. It almost made him feel guilty too, because in some ways Alice felt like Julia, a lot of ways actually. Maybe he was just growing up.

The two ordered, and Alice didn't lie when she said she was a slut for the breadsticks. He’d wondered why she brought such a big bag with her.

“Charlie would make me do this everytime we came.” She laughed. “Our parents tastes where well, exotic. I believe they served goat penis at my 9th birthday dinner. We started sneaking out here to get some sustenance.”

All of it was so remarkably Alice Quinn.

“I won’t judge. Long as you save me a couple.”

“Of course good sir, of course.”

As they ate and talked Quentin thought about how much he really liked Alice. It had been awhile since he’d made a real friend, and certainly not one as smart as her.

Despite Quentins protests Alice paid for dinner. Said he deserved to have someone take care of him, and it was the Olive Garden anyways, wasn’t like she was breaking the bank.

The pair then wandered out onto the streets on New York, it made Quentin feel uneasy and relieved. It was like falling back into old habits, he noticed he was already walking with his eyes fixed on the sidewalk. It helped Alice was right there with him, a reminder if the life he had now. He was a motherfucking magician.

So they did magic, little magic. Barely enough to matter. They did magic smoke rings and made people trip from a distance, which was a bit  cruel albeit funny. They jacked the central park speakers and started playing David Bowie, Quentin did show Alice his signature move. Quentin wanted to practice before showing it to Eliot, even though embarrassment seemed inevitable

“Hey Q.”

“What?”

“You said you needed help with two things, what was the other one?”

“I wanted to get makeup.”

“What for? Like eyeliner and stuff?”

“No uh, I threw out all my stuff after Carter, was kinda shit at coverups anyways. But, I was kinda hoping I could get some to cover my scars in case me and Eliot..just I can’t get back into the wards by myself.”

“Shit Q, you really think your ready for that?”

“Kinda.”

“And, you want to cover them.”

“I mean they shouldn’t define me right?”

“Yeah but, I just want to make sure your not like, hiding any new ones.”

“I made a promise not to scare you like that again.”

“I know but, you did really scare me Q. Does Eliot know about what happened?”

“Not yet. Things are good between us now though. I don’t want to make him angry or whatever. He tried really hard to help, I think it would just crush him if he knew.”

“He won’t get angry Q. People shouldn’t get angry. But what you did? You will never try pull that shit again right?”

“I promised didn’t I?”

“Right, yeah. Just promise me something else okay? You won’t do anything unless you want to. Not you think you should, or you think your ready.”

“I already made that with Eliot.”

“Well a few more promises can’t hurt.”

“Guess not. I promise Alice.”

"And i don't think you should cover them with him. In public and stuff, if you want to, but if you want to trust him, I think he should know.

She rested her head on his shoulder. He almost expected some closing remarks, a change of subject, but instead she just looked at him, and wordlessly they started home. Quentin slept in Alice's bed.


	19. Makeover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julia gives Q a date makeover, Quentin and Julia swap secrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slight canon divergence !!! (as if there hasn't been enough of that shit) but I'm realizing now in the show Julia saw Q at the exam, so lean more towards book 2 on this one, THE MEMORY WIPE WORKED

Quentin didn’t end up asking Margo for help picking out his outfit, instead he called Julia.

She picked up the phone too quickly, it barely had time to ring. It was almost like she expected it.

“Q?”

“Yeah Jules it's me. Are you free Saturday?”

“Yeah whenever. I'll always make time for us remember!” 

It wasn't happy.

“No same. Sorry I've been kinda a dick about that, just a dick in general. Look do you think you could help me with something, you've been wanting to do it for years.”

For a split second, the Julia he knew had returned.

“Please tell me I'm taking you to get clothes that actually fit you.”

“Jesus why does everyone think my style is so bad? I literally don't have one.”

“That's the problem Q. Come to my place at 4 okay?”

“Yeah Jules, I'll see you soon.”

And so the next day Quentin stepped through a portal and cringed at the cold, grimy that stabbed at his lungs. He hadn't even left the brakebills wards before he started to long for them once more. But this was for Julia.

He wasn't sure what he expected,to walk into the same apartment he had been in so many times, to a Julia he knew like the back of his hand.

This was that apartment, and that Julia, but they weren't the same. It was messy, but there were piles of things that looked to organized, out of place. Like as on some manic streak she desperately tried to cobble her life her life into something salvageable before it swallowed her whole again.

“Q, you came.”

“Of course I came.”

“Sorry just, i’ve been going a little crazy.”

“Like, are you still okay crazy?”

“Something like that I think.”

It was odd how she had adopted it, a certain arrogance about life. Most call it a subtle death wish. Quentin was well versed, he wouldn't be surprised if she was just copying what she put up with for years with him.

Desperate for an out, “So Q, let’s head out yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The sulked along the avenues until they came to a chain store that was lit like the commercial. Quentin walked side by side with Julia. It was odd, because it was usually James's place.

“Where's James?”

“He’s..We didn't work out. I had more important things, so did he. But enough about me. Your new outfit, is it for a date?”

“Yeah actually. With that guy Eliot.”

“Wow it’s been awhile then. I thought you too were already hooking up?”

Quentin winced. “Not really.”

“Well I won’t judge. I just hope you find someone eventually.”

She sauntered up to a clothing rack and tossed something at him. She operated recklessly now. And she kept going, Quentin holding onto the hoards of clothing like a pack mule.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this Q. Even James going to get in on it at one point.”

“It can’t be that bad.”

“Quentin you admit to stealing your father's clothes, it is.”

Julia shoved him into a changing room and sat impatiently outside the door, Quentin let out a sigh of relief at being alone. This wasn’t the place, but he felt an overwhelming urge to tell her everything.

He stepped out in the least offensive outfit. It was a black button down, a bit to tight for ihs taste but it would do, and black skinny jeans.

“Of course you went with the all black option.”

“Hey it was an option.”

“Well you look good Q, Im sure Eliot will be impressed.”

It all felt rehearsed, exaggerated.

“Hey Jules, can we get this and go home? I kinda just want to talk now if it’s okay. I just wanted a reason to see you.”

“Yeah, sure uh. Me too.”

Quentin barley made it through her door.

“I dated someone in college.”

It was definitely not what Julia expected.

“I’m sorry but what?”

“Yeah for like 9 months, that's where I lived when I moved out of my Dads.”

“How is this the first I’m hearing of it?”

“Cause I was ashamed.”

“Q I don’t give a shit if it was a guy, even if we cared we all saw that one coming.”

“Not that, maybe that. He wasn't a good one.”

So quietly Julia listened as Quentin spun his story, which he couldn't tell if it got harder or easier to tell each time he told it. With Eliot it was bare boned and raw, Alice and Margo skimmed over but plumped out with random details. But with Julia, in this place, he remembered all of it.

“And there was this time, where I was really scared. I left the dishes in the sink, it was just overnight. I didn’t even think he’d come home. He saw it and he threw all my Fillory books into the dishwater. They were ruined. The next week I did nothing but stare at the walls. I didn’t even go to class. They were just gone. Then he made me have sex again and gave me a present after. He did that sometimes. The World in Walls, first fucking edition, and I kissed him. It was just like that.”

Then he got to a story she knew, because she’d been there.

“That’s why you took the pills?”

“I was always messed up Julia, since we were like 14. Just everything that happened, it got to much. It just seemed like my only out.”

She hugged him close.

“Just know I’ll always be your way out Quetin. You always have a home to come back to. These past few months, you won’t believe what I’ve seen. Beautiful, wonderful things. Miracles. But nothings like us Q.”

Quentin immediately knew what she was talking about, and some of the stuff scattered about the apartment gave him an idea. She was a hedge. Eliot had told him enough, Kady was obvious. Julia had failed the exam, had her memories erased, but she still had magic, and he let her have it. He didn't speak a word, remind her that there was so much more than this, or that she shouldn't have it as all. Someone like Julia was always bound to find her way to it somehow.

“I’ll always come back to you Jules, just keep looking for your miracles.”

“Me too Q, and I really fucking want you to find someone that makes you happy, and safe.”

“Yeah, me too.”


	20. Love Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q and El go on their first date, its cute as shit. Q loves t swift

Eliot couldn’t help but gasp when Quentin came down the stairs. It was a very cliche moment, which Margo acknowledged with a glaring look, but Eliot was living for it.

“Eliot stop staring I just got new clothes!”

That suddenly made Eliot very nervous.  _ This really means a lot to him. _

“Of course Q,  **_you_ ** got new clothes.”

Quentin stepped right up in front of him, he was adorably intimidating.

“I may or may not have have gotten help.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” and he pulled him up towards his chest. He loved how Quentin seemed to fit perfectly under his chin. “Now let’s go before Bambi throws up in her mouth.”

She snorted from across the room.

The stepped through the portal into downtown Manhattan. Eliot jokingly apologized for not laying out roses by the entrance, it made Quentin laugh.

“So where are we going?”

“It’s this little place Margo would take me when we were freshman. It’s stupid but I remember being so baffled by the city.”

“Wait you didn’t go here for undergrad?”

“No, and I only went for a few semesters of college anyway.”

“But your so..”

“So what?”

“Smart. Your a fucking genius, how did you not go to college?”

Eliot's face soured, it made Quentin wince. As far as secrets went this wasn't an insane one, after all he knew about Logan.

“So where I grew up, how I grew up? College wasn’t really a possibility just.. Before I got kicked out..I grew up on a farm, in Indiana. ” He shuddered at the word.

There was a tense moment of silence before Quentin doubled over laughing.

“I’m sorry but that was your terrible secret? You didn’t go to college? That you're from  **indiana** ?”

“Yes, because it’s atrocious. I’m lucky to have made it out alive, and I was able to pay my way through a few semesters of college, at least the stuff I couldn't teach myself. Indiana farm life is far more terrible than you'd think, you perfect, privileged city boy.”

“City boy huh?”

“Oh if my father saw you he'd be livid. Doubt you even know what the FFA is.”

“Well at least I know, “Quentin said reaching up to brush a curl from Eliot’s face, “Your perfect in every way **. And** you know what the hell FFA means.”

Eliot wondered what he had done to deserve him, and wished he was more sober than he was.

“Now come on I’m starved.”

Eliot grabbed Quentin's hand and they started towards the restaurant, he could see Q blushing furiously as he did so.

“You okay Q?”

Embarrassed, “Yeah I’ve just never held hand with anyone like, in public. Outside the wards I mean.”

“How could I not let everyone know what a beautiful man I have the privilege of being with.” A few moments later he added, “And your safe Quentin.”

They came upon the place, Eliot had called ahead. 

“Does it look nicer than the Olive Garden?”

“Alice told you about that?”

“Please Q, I give that girl a sip of sherry and she tells me how she lost her virginity. I’m not mad, it’s kinda adorable.”

He saw panic flash across Quentins face before it settled again into a smile, it made Eliot wary, but he chose not to overthink it.

“Now Q,  know we’ve talked about how you don’t have to do things that other people want you to do, and that rule still applies. However if I let you order the plainest thing on the menu, cause I know you're thinking about it, I won't be able to forgive myself.”

Quentin laughed and indulged him, Eliot got him something that sounded needlessly extravagant. Quentin begrudgingly admitted it was the best fucking food he’d ever had.

“You know you don’t need to to all this for me El.”

Eliot scooted even closer to him, “But I do babe.”

“Babe?”

“Yeah just go with it.”

Everything just fell into place, Eliot only remembered things being like that with Margo. Quentin was laughing, and although Eliot didn’t make a big deal out of it seeing Quentin hungry was a very, very good thing. With all his other shit, Eliot forgot sometimes how you usually had to eat with Quentin or he wouldn’t. At least not enough. He ordered dessert to even though Quentin was trying to wave it off.

“Trust me Margo will chartise me for days if I don’t get you her favorite dish.”

They paid, Eliot tipped generously. Though he did have to remind Quentin, yes this is a date, no you don’t have to pay.

The started along the streets of manhattan, Quentin occasionally recognizing something from a life long since lived. Neither could remember how far or for how long they stumbled over each other, holding hands.

They were in a fairly secluded part of town now, wider sidewalks and aching treed sputtering out into saddening suburban parks. Eliot gave Quentin a look that meant something horribly embarrassing was about to happen.

His fingers flashed gold as a song started to play around them. Quentin wasn’t sure if anyone could hear beside them.

“You are not playing Taylor Swift's Love Story right now.”

“I might have asked the mind slut for your favorite song. Your welcome.”

“Your a dick.”

“I know. Even more of a dick because Alice told me you love dancing.”

“God Eliot I’m like so..so bad.”

“Well while I’ve occasionally seen you at parties..”

“No!”

“I don’t believe for a second you were giving it your all so, dance with me?”

Quentin started out with self conscious shuffling, Eliot grabbing onto his hips and laughing with him. But by the chorus Q had lost himself in it. His limbs were everywhere and he had his eyes closed, belting out every lyric. Eliot was torn between dancing with him or just watching this perfect, perfect person just..be himself.

Quentin made the choice for him, and by the last lines he had dragged Eliot into his arms for a few seconds of slow dancing with his head buried into his chest. Even as the music faded of he stayed there.

“Thank you so much Eliot.”

“For this stupid night? Trust me you ain't seen nothing yet.”

“No you dumbass, “He said with watering eyes, “For everything. For getting me friends, for being my friend. For that fucking band aid.”

It all felt so long ago.

“I’d do it all again Q, I-I..” He took a deep breath, “I know it’s not perfect but I’m falling in love with you.”

Quentin settled deeper into him, “I think I am too.”

“Oh thank God.”

“Can I tell you something El?”

“Of course.”

“When Alice was my secrets partner I said my biggest fear was that none of what happened to me was real. That in an effort to protect myself of maybe just for attention I made it all up. So I hurt Carter by running away, he never hit me or made me do things, that I wanted them.”

“You know that's not true right?”

“It’s why I want to go back on medication. I want to have more days like this, and I don’t want to be scared or paranoid. I want to eat and sleep and deal with pain like a normal person. I don’t even think I care if it costs me magic.”

“Magic comes from pain.”

“And El, I think I’m okay with that. Cause I still have something so wild and impatient and restless and  **perfect** as magic.”

“What's that?”

“I know what it’s like to feel loved. By you, by Alice and Julia. Margo and even fucking Penny.”

Eliot chuckled.

“If there's one thing you deserve Quentin Coldwater, it’s to be told how beautiful you are. Whatever you do I will support you okay?”

“I’d trust you with anything.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi sorry i abandoned this for a bit, sorry if I do again. I kinda hit a rough patch, a lot of this story is inspired by me suprise suprise, Just know i'm trying, and I care about queliot so so much. My dads not around a ton, never has been, but he usually made time to watch or talk about a few tv shows or movies with me, this being one. He was uncomfortable with queliot but he was *starting* to see a gay relationship as something not explicitly sexual or not "real love" as he puts it, well dad, equally uncomfotrable for your gay kid. Then Qs death broke me because the idea of a happy ending for a mentally ill queer protagonist was kinda everything? Anyways im better(ish), Ive eaten 3 meals a day for 3 days in a row(!!) and havent picked at any of my cuts. Guess I should be proud? Doing it on my own or something? Anyways hope you enjoyed the fluffy shit, Im kinda bad at writing it lol.


	21. BOOK II Naughty Little Nurse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We return to this story after like a fucking year to Julia land were nothing makes sense and spite gets you were you need to be. Expect some canon divergence.

BOOK II

 

Julia woke up hungover without any clothes on. She closed her eyes in hopes she could fall back asleep, but her brain itched and she had to squint to get anything to look clear.

 

She sat up quickly, threw off her blankets and cringed at the cold, quickly pulling on her Tee. She hadn’t played the heating bill for awhile now. The guy in the bed next to her didn’t seem to mind, he was built like a bear. He smelled like one too. His name was Seth and she met him in a dive bar on 6th before fucking him in exchange for an enchanted gerbil. La vie Boheme. 

 

The phone was ringing. She didn’t answer because she knew nobody was going to be on the other end. It was a warning, so she shoved Seth out the door without letting him say goodbye to the fucking gerbil. 

 

Sick to her stomach and homesick Julia started cooking while watching the shitty Fillory and Further remake they were pushing on Netflix. Jane played a naughty schoolgirl a little too well and ember and umber were played by actual fucking goats, but she watched it because it reminded her of Quentin. Somewhere along the line she became a little too bitter. She wasn’t proud of what she did after Quentin left.

 

“Hey baby.” Someone whispered seductively in her ear. The phone finally stopped ringing.

 

“Marina.” Julia said matter of factly, still staring at her soup. Marina dipped her finger in and took a taste, her clothes still smoking from the spell to get her here.

 

“Oh act a little pleased. Smile.”

 

Julia did as Marina cupped her chin. Her hands were bitingly cold, but Julia still leaned into it. She closed her eyes and the tinny voices from her phone almost lulled her to sleep.

 

“Somethin like you shouldn’t belong here you know. Someone pulled you away from what you were supposed to be.” Marina said. It didn’t make much sense at all.

 

“Am I supposed to be disappointed?”

 

“No, your supposed to be angry. Then spite takes you from the person you're meant to be to the person you have to be.”

 

“To be happy or to survive?”

 

“I wouldn’t think too hard on it.” Marina said leaning in for a kiss, Julia let her.

 

The two kissed into the couch for awhile. It made Julia horny enough to consider sex but not enough to overide the rest of her. The rest of her being the overwhelming urge to do nothing at all.

 

Back in the early days of the charade Julia wound up in rehab, big whoop. There was a lot of shitty food, hooch that tasted like it was fermented in a musky pussy, and therapy she didn’t need. Okay she might have needed some, but not for what they thought. They said she didn’t have the ability to enjoy the things she should be enjoying. They were wrong, because to them she was meant to enjoy gradschool, and luncheons, and that fucking fiance. She knew what she’d enjoy, she just couldn’t get it. Magic.

 

Julia realized she was crying while they were kissing. Oops. 

 

“Do you need to stop?” Marina said pushing the hair out of her face.

 

Julia didn’t respond so Marina being weirdly femnist and --viahment Misanthropist-- stopped and served up the burnt soup instead. She did a reverse entropy spell that felt excessive to get it warm again and sat next to Julia on the couch while bullying her to eat. She could still hear the voices from her phone, Martin was in the flying forest, alone. She never understood why that scene existed until now.

 

“I got the stuff you asked for J. I can guess what it is, but I want you to tell me.”

 

“Of course you know what it is. You taught it to me.”

 

“For emergencies. I don’t want to put you in rehab for real this time. That shits basically phamactical grade speed.”

 

“Well I met you in rehab. We fucked in rehab. Maybe it will be like our honeymoon.”

 

“I’m not proud of how we got together okay. You know I could get fired for it.”

 

“Oh, the naughty nurse could get in trouble, I hate for you to get a spanking.”

 

“Shut up!” Marina said to loud. The apartment quivered against her, the spoons loudly clinkinging against the bowls. “You can do spells, I want to give you spells but I never should have given you that one.”

 

The spell in question wasn’t all that bad on its own. Marina was a nurse, at least for the time being. She was also a witch, a powerful witch with a sketchy history. She could sense Julia's magic, and was also desperate enough to catch feelings. She gave her a spell that was like a ventriloquist trick. It made you a puppet. You had an inkling of a thought and the spell compelled you to do it. Marina gave it to her when she stayed in bed for 22 hours straight and got a kidney infection. She was right, it was addicting.

 

“J what happens when you're under the influence of it and you think you want to die.”

 

“That won’t happen. I have magic now.”

 

“And magic doesn’t fix things.”

 

The speakers and that stupid TV show were the loudest thing in the room. Jane was screaming. The watcher woman was laughing. It had always been Julia's pet theory that they were one and the same. She hadn’t told Quentin, because it felt like something over him, because she was positive she was right. It was a realization he could never come to on his own. He wasn’t self aware enough to realize when he was his own problem. Julia, oh Julia. Shit she couldn’t even see his problems. No all she saw was his problems, and she thought they went away. No he was getting abused by some random asshole who ruined her best friend for her. 

 

“I want to learn a new spell M.”

 

“That's great. I found some new stuff in that Safehouse in Kentucky--”

 

“No, I want to kill someone.”

 

“You don’t, you don’t really.” Marina said exhausted. Julia was insistent.

 

“I’m gonna kill him. That fucking bastard went free when I had to pick up my best friends body on a park bench! Why did he have to leave me the fucking note!”

 

“Jules, I know it too well okay.”

 

“No you shut up right now. I spent years as a vapid bitch with one real friend who I let, who I let..”

 

Marina slapped her. She cringed after she did it. “You didn’t let that prick do anything. You weren’t there.”

 

“I should have been!”

 

“Wishing you could take away someone's pain? The pain is still there. Pain doesn’t go away just because you want to pawn it off on yourself. I know that too well.” Marina said coldly. Julia set herself in her arms and cried, occasionally kissing up her neck. Her cheek still stung as she ruffled it against Marina’s jacket.

 

Julia hadn’t quite changed her mind, and Marina indeed knew what taking someones pain felt like too well. There was a spell for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eyy so I realize i still get kudos on this shit so fuck it maybe ill finish it. The timeline will prob b a little skewy at first because I don't want to force y'all to reread the whole thing. This is probably a bad idea but hey, lemme know what you think


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some lazy thoughts and bad habits. Minor edits made to last chapter, if you want to reread the second half of it.

There's a moment when everythings okay, and you take a moment to acknowledge it. The minute you realize the difference is a minute before your brain reminds you of how you're supposed to feel. Your smile reminds you it's gotten sore.

 

Quentin first acknowledged how bafflingly okay things were in Eliot's arms, the smell of gingerbread tempting them from the couch. He was so sure they would protect him a minute ago, but Eliot felt like a blanket. A temporary fix to the biting cold little babies carried around with them. He wanted to be held by something warm and true, and was confused why this was no longer doing the trick. 

 

“I trust you.” Quentin said. It was something he did now, and was weirdly far more intimate to him than saying he loved him. 

 

“I trust you too.” Eliot said placing a kiss on the top of his head. “Should we get some of those cookies before the rest of these heathens take them for themselves?”

 

Quentin ate 3 cookies, and when Eliot wasn’t looking he snuck two more up his sleeve. Eliot wanted to go back to the couch, but Quentin made up an excuse about wanting a jacket. He stashed the food in his bag and went back to Eliot’s arms without question.

 

They started watching his cheesy holiday movie based on a Jane Austen novel. Neither of them were actually paying attention, Eliot just liked kissing. Quentin liked it too, but Eliot's hands were cold against his chest. It made Quentin feel like a mannequin, something that barely existed beyond a professional capacity. He slipped off to his own room after the movie ended.

 

On his way out he stole a banana, a coke, and a can of frosting from the fridge under the rouse of a glass of water, quickly making his way out the door with it all bulky in his bag. He had no reason to steal, but he still snuck off to the corner of the gardens no one went to and ate it all in a few minutes. There was no reason too, but the rush of getting away with something took it all a little out of his chest. Carter had been a health nut, and swore off snacking for the both of them without asking.

 

Penny wasn’t there when he got to his dorm. He wasn’t the type to leave a note, but it was safe to assume he was staying the night  _ somewhere. _ Much to Alice and Pennys chagrin he wasn’t a complete idiot, but he would play along if they wanted him too. He considered calling Eliot, but it felt too desperate. He didn’t want to see Eliot anyways, or more accurately he didn't want Eliot to see him. He felt like a projected version of himself, like those 100 people lectures back in undergrad. Crouched over people running across him as to not disrupt the picture, but uncaring enough to just walk around. The only thing he could manage to think about was how unreal all of this felt. He was supposed to be 3 months clean, this was supposed to be behind him.

 

3 months clean of self-harm, did that mean he was dirty before?

 

When his mind got like this, it was like the daydream was louder than the actual world. Anything that requires singular focus was now multitasking, and much as he hated it, his mind sometimes went to sex.

 

When Quentin first learned about sex he was understandably disgusted, after all he was 10. His Dad bought him a book that covered the topic rather prudishly and clinically, like ripping off a band-aide. Afterwards though he felt like an insider to a grown up sort of club, laughing at rouchy sitcom jokes because he knew he was supposed too. 

 

Things then continued as normal, he saw rated R movies and underwear ads and became privy to a world of hedonism and impropriety. Quentin still had no fucking idea how clueless he actually was about sex. He was no stranger to love or fantasy, but some stuff tended to be lost in translation. Namely things like consent, or pleasure beyond basic utilitarian function.

 

 He didn’t really think about sex as part of it, when he though about falling in love. Maybe something about all his idealized relationships being based on a group of fictional siblings. He was always seeing it, hell the only representation he ever saw was soft-core porn curtosy of side charcters on the CW, and that never felt real to him anyways. That was a display, he didn’t want to feel any connection to it. He wondered after if Carter fucked him up so hard he would never have sex again, but then again he had no point of refrence. 

 

He glanced at the clock, and noted it was now 1 o’clock in the morning on a school night. He’d certainly done worse, but it was the fact he hadn’t realized the time had passed at all that scared him sometimes. He pulled out his computer and created a miniature black hole to get a signal, and watched porn for the first time. 

 

He picked up on some interesting dynamics, and by interesting he meant familiar. He didn’t feel like an active participant, it felt clinical and stylized. He lazily considered jerking off, but he could barely keep his eyes open. He did what he wanted to do, bored and out of his mind. Lethargically he touched himself, every once and awhile looking back towards the screen once he remembered what he was supposed to be doing. Once he got hard he was sure to get it over quickly, because the mind numbing boredom and itching feeling were getting to him.

 

He laid in his bed after, imaging what sex was supposed to feel like. He let himself be dirty as he wanted when he thought about it, because not like Eliot had a filter either. He stared at the ceiling falling in and out of consciousness. Carters face showed up sometimes, but he couldn’t feel enough to hate, and he wasn’t sure if hate was even the right word.

 

3 months clean of self harm, he wasn’t sure clean was the right word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> weird thing bout this story, it aint really a story, more like a collection of thoughts and me putting my expirences into words. Anyway, this was supposed to be alittle bout derealization, but I wrote in while in that state so who knows of this makes any sense. Also tip of the iceberg on my thoughts on sex but like, only so much time. Lemme know if it made any sense lol, I promise cute stuff soon.


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